Watermelon
by Robin Janette
Summary: Molly has had a difficult day at the morgue, and Sherlock gets her favorite fruit to make her feel better. Established Sherlolly relationship not connected to any of my other stories. Rated T for swearing, but mostly fluff.


**Inspiration can strike at the strangest moments! Like when eating watermelon! :)**

* * *

Molly was having a really shitty day, for lack of a more descriptive word. Besides being swamped with paperwork and drowning in bodies, Molly had just had to perform autopsies on several children who were killed in a car crash because of a drunk driver, and while Molly was generally pretty good at controlling her emotions in her line of work, the sight of those children had reduced her to tears.

Sometimes her job really wasn't fair.

It was really no surprise then that Molly was at the end of her rope when Sherlock called her in the afternoon. She had angrily yanked her mobile out of her pocket, saw Sherlock's name on the caller ID, and said, "Sherlock, I don't have time to talk today. What is it?"

Sherlock was staring into their shared fridge at 221B, and said, "Molly, we're out of milk."

Molly huffed and sat down at her desk. She scrunched up her face and kneaded her forehead with her hand. "Can't you get milk? I'll have to stay late tonight because I've got so much to do. While you're at it, can you pick up some other things there as well? I was going to go to the store tonight but I won't have time."

Sherlock was taken aback at first by Molly's tone. She wasn't normally this irritable. He would have to consider this further. "What else do we need?"

"You know what I buy, Sherlock, surely. Just get some essentials like fruit, milk, bread, and pasta, and we can manage until I can go later this week. Okay?"

"Alright."

"Bye Sherlock." Molly hung up.

* * *

Sherlock set down his phone and went to the couch, slipping into his mind palace as his hands joined under his chin.

What would Molly buy.

Sherlock usually deleted whatever Molly bought at the store because such tedious things took up valuable space. Any food in the cupboards and refrigerator was undeniably the work of either Mrs. Hudson or Molly, the only other occupants of the building. With that assumption, any time more food appeared in the flat was due to their influences.

But that still didn't solve the problem of what to buy. Fruit, milk, bread, and pasta were explicitly named, so that was a starting point. But what kind of fruit? Sherlock opened his eyes and decided to go to the store and decide there, and could then devote the time spent walking to the store to deducing the cause of Molly's bad mood.

Sherlock put on his coat and walked down the stairs as he considered his girlfriend and roommate. Molly was not at an emotional part of her reproductive cycle, so that couldn't be the culprit. Sherlock made put a mental note to buy some ice cream just in case. Molly's relationship with him was relatively stable, so it was also unlikely that he himself was it. Sherlock then considered the other forces in Molly's life: Toby (recovering nicely in Molly's room after ingesting some chemical compounds a few weeks ago), Molly's family (no one was ill or dying to Sherlock's knowledge, and Molly would have surely mentioned if a member of her small family was ill), and her job.

Sherlock surfaced from his deductions in time to cross the street. He honed in on Molly's job as he continued down the block.

Molly's job itself was not in danger, as she would be coming home early if she were fired, not stay late. Plus, Molly had earned herself a fine reputation at Bart's, and it was no coincidence that Sherlock only worked with the best.

Therefore, it must be something related to her job. Sherlock dismissed the thought that she was having trouble cooperating with one of her colleagues; this was Molly he was thinking about.

No, this must be one of her bodies. Sherlock sorted all the times he had seen Molly upset because of a body by type of person and age, and the only factor that came to a positive correlation was age. Molly did not see many children in her morgue, but it took no genius to determine that she would be upset by the death of children. Molly loved children, especially her nieces and nephews, and Sherlock shared her sadness and anger, although he did not often let it show. Sherlock could derive no pleasure from solving a case where children had been harmed. Before pushing those thoughts from his head, he determined that it must have been more than one child, probably two or three given average family sizes.

Sherlock arrived at the market at last. He first turned grabbed a basket and first walked through the produce section. He had no idea what to buy. He considered the different fruits he had seen Molly eat, and just as he thought of it, he came to a large bin containing Molly's favorite fruit.

* * *

Molly had lugged the green melon up the stairs, and set it in the sink before heading back to carry up the rest of the groceries. Sherlock surfaced from his mind palace and regarded her as she put several bags on the table and got out a cutting board, a big bowl, and two knives. She was about to put the first slice in the watermelon when he had asked, "You like watermelon?"

She used the bigger knife to slice into the melon and divided it in two. "Yeah, it's my favorite fruit, actually."

Sherlock got up from the couch, saying, "Why do you have a favorite fruit?"

"Don't you have a favorite food, Sherlock?" She cut one of the halves into four quarters and rinsed off her knife.

"I had never really considered it."

Molly used the smaller knife to cut the red flesh from the rind, and the juicy fruit into chunks. She tried a piece and smiled. "I got a good one this time. I guess watermelon's my favorite fruit because it means summer is coming. And besides, when I was a kid, I used to pretend the watermelon was someone's head."

"You wanted to be a pathologist from a young age."

"Yeah. I even pretended that the juice was blood. Watermelons are just the right color and shape too. And I really love the taste. There's nothing like cold watermelon on a hot day." Molly set to work on the second half of the watermelon. "What did you want to be when you were young?"

Sherlock took the rinds and threw them in the bin. "I don't know. I've deleted most of it."

Molly turned around to look at him. "Did you want to be a detective?"

"No, that was the compromise I made. I didn't know that pirating wasn't a viable career option."

Molly laughed. "We make a fine pair. I was cutting up facsimiles of heads while you sailed the seven seas."

Sherlock peeked in the bags as Molly finished cutting up the rest of the watermelon and put the lid on the bowl. "Watermelon's even more like someone's head because when you cut it up you get a mess everywhere," she said as she wiped up the sticky juice and rinsed off the knives and cutting board. "I was going to have some later when it's cool. Care to join me?"

Molly and Sherlock later ate a bowl of watermelon together as Sherlock told Molly about his latest case.

* * *

Sherlock picked up a watermelon and weighed it in his hands. Not having seen Molly purchase a watermelon, he didn't know how one knew if the fruit was ripe. A man walked up to the bin, picked up his own watermelon, and tapped the side. He tested out a few before deciding on one. After the man walked away, Sherlock raised his hand to knock on the watermelon, but then decided against it. He couldn't hear any difference, and he felt rather ridiculous standing there holding a watermelon, so he simply put the watermelon in his basket.

Finding milk, bread, and pasta was easier, as they only drank whole milk, ate wheat bread, and cooked penne pasta. Sherlock also bought a half-gallon of cookie dough ice cream for Molly, as it was her flavor of choice.

Sherlock paid for the items and carried the groceries home, trying to think of a way to cheer Molly up. He considered several alternatives, which included going on a case, finding a pet shop because Molly liked fluffy animals, and having sex, all of which could either work or backfire spectacularly, as he knew from previous experiences. Sherlock finally made up his mind to cook dinner for Molly, as she wouldn't want to cook when she got home. He climbed the steps to 221B, and got out his phone to text Molly.

_Text me when you're leaving._

_SH_

She replied a few seconds later.

_Why?_

Sherlock texted back,

_I have something here for you._

_And don't come on a full stomach._

_SH_

Sherlock got out the supplies for grilled chicken and pasta, and cooked the chicken while he waited for her to text. She usually took about 20 minutes to get home, which allotted enough time to make the pasta to serve over the chicken. As the chicken cooled, he got out the knives, cutting board, and bowl for the watermelon, and sliced it up just as she had. Just as he finished, he got a text from Molly.

_I'm on my way. Please let there not _

_be a body when I get there._

_I'm really not in the mood today._

Sherlock smiled as he set the water to boil.

* * *

Molly was physically and emotionally exhausted as she walked the last block to 221B. All she wanted was to go up to her room, wrap herself in a blanket, and sleep for several hours. It had worked in the past after a difficult day at the morgue. She opened the door, and immediately smelled chicken and tomato sauce. She thought it must be coming from Mrs. Hudson's kitchen, but as she went up the stairs, the smell got stronger. Molly pushed open the door to find Sherlock putting two plates of pasta over grilled chicken on the table. Her mouth fell open at the clean, cleared off table and the nice place settings, complete with napkins folded like the Sydney Opera House.

Sherlock smiled as he turned back to the kitchen and carried out two bowls of watermelon. "Whatever your day brought, I thought it could be improved with dinner and your favorite fruit."

Tears filled Molly's eyes as she said, "It's perfect, Sherlock. Thank you." She kissed him lightly as he held her in a warm embrace.

Sherlock pulled out Molly's chair like a gentleman and said, "Was it children?"

"Yeah. Three young kids in a car crash, on top of a bunch of paperwork."

As he poured them both some wine, Sherlock said, "The rest of the groceries are in the refrigerator. I also got some ice cream."

"Thanks, Sherlock." Molly took a bite of the chicken. It was plain, but good. "It's a lovely dinner."

"I thought it might cheer you up."

Molly smiled. "I never thought I'd see the day when Sherlock Holmes would try to cheer someone up."

Sherlock took her hand and said, "I never thought I would either. And I'm glad it's you."

Sherlock and Molly kissed over the bowls of watermelon.


End file.
